Man,
it was quiet on the upper deck of the Lazzara 80, despite the size of
the crowd in the pilothouse and expansive sky lounge abaft it. There was
some serious computer firepower on hand, too, evidenced by rafts of laptops
scattered about on consoles and tabletops and whole hordes of gigabytes
fizzing across the three VEI (Valhalla Enterprises Incorporated) active-matrix
flat-screen displays on the steering console. And as for technical expertise,
in addition to a jump-suited mechanic and a skinny propulsion guru in
a tee-shirt, Lazzara’s director of engineering Tom Croft was present,
along with general manager Mike Schenk, sea-trial guru Wayne Searles,
and marketing v.p. Rich Lazzara. Yet another pivotal player onboard was
a subcontractor of sorts--Gerry Janelle, president of Janelle Engineering,
a South Florida firm that field tests equipment capable of measuring heretofore
unmeasurable performance parameters during sea trials. Janelle was hunkered
over a Pelican case stuffed with electronic componentry, ready to graph
shaft horsepower, torque, and propeller slippage for both main engines.

Why
all the silence, computer oomph, and tech talent on the 80 during PMY’s
recent sea trials on Tampa Bay? The answer’s best summarized in
one word: commitment. Whether the folks at Lazzara are securing a hull-to-deck
joint with stainless steel bolts, 3M 5200, and wide swathes of fiberglass,
or making a three-stateroom, six-head, trideck 80-footer available for
a marine magazine, their intensity and thoroughness of purpose is palpable
and hardly conducive to levity and chatter. While most manufacturers send
a single rep along on the sea trials I do--a guy who frankly may
or may not know the boat well--Lazzara had dispatched a veritable
platoon of experts to make sure every question I had was accurately answered,
every detail precisely explained, and every unforeseen circumstance rapidly
addressed.

"Okay,
Wayne," I said to Searles, lowering my radar gun momentarily, "how
about turning her around so we can get some speed readings goin'
the other way?"

Searles
spun the wheel with a finger and the flat, brownish expanse of Tampa Bay’s
Gadsden Cut began sweeping smoothly across the windshield panels. Having
finished my own stint at the helm just 20 minutes before, the characteristics
of the turn were familiar. The 80’s Hynautic hydraulic steering,
with engine-driven power-assist, engendered a delicacy of control that
was exquisite. Sightlines were fine, too, everywhere but directly aft.
And, although the integral keel and protective, stainless steel skegs
in way of the props were substantial enough to guarantee super tracking
on straightaways, they kept lateral water pressure to a manageable level.
Our turning radius was reasonable, and there was absolutely no tendency
to lean outboard in hard-over turns like the one we were making, a characteristic
of some vessels with lots of fore-and-aft structure below the waterline.

"That’s
good," I said as the bow steadied up on a range marker just north
of Big Bend Channel. With a murmured affirmative I could easily hear,
Searles put a fine point on the remaining factor behind all the quietude
onboard: Lazzara’s get-tough take on sound and vibration. Except
for the planked-bamboo sole in the galley and the marble floors in the
heads, all three of the 80’s decks are covered with Soundown carpet
underlayment, as well as carpet. Moreover, paneling on bulkheads, overheads,
and walls are secured with Velcro, a great sound-and-vibration decoupler.
And then there’s the firewall that separates the engine room from
the master: It’s approximately one foot thick, courtesy of alternating
layers of Baltek AL600 balsa, dead-air space, and Soundown foam.

I’ve
got a fairly sharp mind, at least for an old guy. After penciling the
last speed-run numbers into my notebook and then comparing all or most
of my test data with Janelle’s graphs, a vague feeling of discontent
obtruded. Beyond the fact that the sea state was virtually flat, a condition
hardly conducive to a good, feisty wring-out, there were other problems.
For starters, the tachs were topping out at 2300 instead of the rated
2400 rpm. Then the new Blue Line electronic readouts on the dashboard
were specifying a fuel burn almost 3 gph less than what the manufacturer’s
fuel curves predict at WOT. And finally, Janelle’s laptop was consistently
graphing a shaft-horsepower shortfall on both engines (see "Gerry’s
Magical Portable Dyno," this story). Conclusion? Although the 36-mph
top speed I’d recorded earlier was undeniably fast for an 80-footer,
the diesels still seemed to be "layin' back," as we
say in the South.

Croft
explained that during earlier sea trials he and his team of engineers
had used Janelle’s equipment and expertise, as well as their own,
to confirm the horsepower deficit I was seeing. But while they’d
spent lots of time trying to figure it out, they’d yet to have success.
"All I know for sure right now is we’re a little short on horsepower
and a little short on speed," he explained.